


We Stole the Stars

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee
Genre: AU, M/M, Thief!Klaine, Thief!Kurt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-11 11:51:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hummels are an internationally hunted family of thieves, known for the fact that they are never seen and never caught. That is, until Blaine Anderson is in the wrong place at the wrong time.</p><p>
  <b>THIS WORK IS UNFINISHED. IT HAS BEEN DISCONTINUED.</b>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a heist they’d been planning for  _weeks._ Weeks of surveillance, of acquiring equipment, of arranging payment and meeting places with the client; it had been time consuming and, at a few points, dangerous, but the stage was set. The hardest parts out of the way, now it was only a matter of stealing the painting.

It wasn’t supposed to be a hard job. That’s why it had been so easy for Kurt to convince the rest of his family to let him go on his own.

“They’re arrogant,” his dad had said. “And arrogant people are the easiest to steal from.”

The house, while impressive in build, was also woefully unprotected. A few men who swept the perimeter lazily at hour intervals, a few standard issue cameras, and an alarm. The painting wasn’t even vaulted. Kurt simply had to take it from the wall and that was that. Easy.

The Andersons were out of town, long enough that the paintings absence most likely wouldn’t be noticed for a good three days. And three days was enough time to smuggle the artwork out of the country.

Everything was going flawlessly; Kurt had never been caught, never even been  _seen_ , and he wasn’t planning on breaking his record now.

But he also hadn’t planned that the Andersons would leave their son behind, nor that he would be walking out of the bathroom right as Kurt began to dismount the painting.

He moved quickly, hand clasping over the boy’s mouth and switchblade open against his throat.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Kurt said quietly, eyes shooting around. “But if you scream, I won’t hesitate to.”

The boy nods as much as he can and Kurt pulls his hand away, reaching into one of his bags and pulling out a zip-tie.

“Sit,” he orders, and the boy backs against the wall. He’s very cooperate, at least, and really doesn’t make a sound. Still, Kurt keeps the knife out; he doesn’t want to use it, but he knows that it’s always a possibility. “Wrists together.” The boy complies and Kurt wraps the zip-tie around them, cinching it shut and nodding.

“You’re here to steal the painting,” the boy says quietly. Kurt wish he could remember his name but, as far as their intelligence went it was simply that the Andersons  _had_ a son.

“No, I’m just admiring the premises.” Kurt removes his gloves and swaps them for a new pair. The boy laughs quietly and Kurt looks at him, eyebrow raised. “You know, for being a hostage, you’re rather jovial.”

The boy shrugs.

“I don’t really care. That painting is all my parents ever talk about. You’re probably doing the world a favor by stealing it.” He leans his head back against the wall. “They’ll be furious, and they’ll blame me. They always do.”

Something tugs at Kurt’s heart and he has the urge to hit himself.  _Don’t get emotionally attached to your hostage._

“I would blame their security,” Kurt says, pulling the painting delicately away from the wall. He’s careful to not leave any traces at all, anything that could even signify that the painting was stolen. It’s his mark to leave a clean crime scene, as if the art had just walked away on it’s own. Except now.

“You’ve seen me.”

The boy looks at Kurt through the dim light. The Hummels don’t wear masks, they never have, because they’ve never been seen and masks tend to hinder more than help in the end. But now Kurt’s been seen.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Kurt stills his progress of slipping the art into a cover and stares at him. It’s stupid to have a witness, but it’s even worse to have a murder on his trail. A murder on his conscience.

“No. I might have to hit you in the head, though,” Kurt grins wryly.

“Maybe you could just steal me, too.”

“Oh yes, kidnapping is all fun and games. So eager to join a band of thieves, little rich boy?” Kurt taunts.

“Blaine,” he says, and Kurt blinks in confusion. “My name is Blaine.”

“Well then, Blaine, there’s no reason for me to take you.”

“I’ve seen you. Heard your voice. Seen the tools you use.”

Kurt bristles.

“I’ll just have to hit you really,  _really_ hard.”

“Even the confusion of a concussion wears off eventually.”

“Do you  _want_ me to kidnap you?” Kurt asks, incredulously, and Blaine looks up at him with the saddest eyes. “You aren’t kidding.”

“I’m really not.”

Kurt stands there for a moment, holding his knife. He could easily just butt the end of it to Blaine’s temple and leave him crumpled on the floor. Out and in, just like it had been planned. But Blaine is right, and he’s using that knowledge to his advantage. He leans down near Blaine, pulling the knife off and watching as Blaine closes his eyes and braces for whatever’s coming.

Kurt cuts the zip-tie.

He stands and offers his hand.

“You can’t come back.”

Blaine doesn’t even look around.

“I’m counting on it.”


	2. Chapter 2

“I thought you said you had a car?”

Kurt grits his teeth and tries to find any remaining patience in his person. There isn’t much. He glances around before pushing Blaine off the path and into a copse of trees, crowding him up against a trunk.

“And  _I_ thought you knew what you were getting into?” Kurt hisses. Blaine’s breathing has come up short and he’s staring up at Kurt with wide eyes. Kurt pulls back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t kill you.”

“I.” Blaine stops. “I wasn’t scared.”

Kurt rolls his eyes and adjusts the painting slung over his back.

“The car is close, but it needs to be far enough away that no one could connect it to your house. Where there isn’t a lot of traffic or prying eyes. This operation has gone wrong enough already.”

Blaine winces and Kurt grabs his wrist, tugging him along.

It was probably a mistake to bring Blaine with him. He’s just lucky that Blaine knew the premises even better than Kurt did; they hadn’t passed any cameras and gone through chinks in the house’s security. Kurt hadn’t asked why Blaine knew of them, but he could guess easily enough.

“It’s not too late to leave me behind,” Blaine says as they turn into an alley.

Kurt knows. At least, he’s thought about it. It would be just as easy to take Blaine on a roundabout path, knock him out, leave him behind. But every time Kurt had started, he would stop just as quickly. Leave Blaine unconscious in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere? He’s a thief, he’s not  _cruel_. But maybe that will be his downfall in the end.

“It was too late the moment you saw me,” Kurt replies over his shoulder easily, and then he’s stopping in front of a large SUV.

“Wow.”

Kurt moves around to the back, sealing the painting safely into the compartment hidden beneath the floor out of Blaine’s sight.

“What?” Kurt snaps the back shut and moves to the driver’s seat.

“Just. I was expecting like a Porsche or something…” Blaine mutters, and Kurt rolls his eyes.

“You know, as a thief, I try not to be that conspicuous. Get in.”

Blaine doesn’t even hesitate.


	3. Chapter 3

“You took a  _hostage?!_ ” Burt demands, and Kurt winces.

“I didn’t have a choice! He saw me stealing the painting!”

“You could have killed him,” Finn points out, looking straight at Blaine where he fidgets in the corner.

“Yes, and then we’d have a murder on our hands. We need time to get this to the buyer, we can’t afford a fucking murder investigation,” Kurt hisses in response. Carole puts a hand on his shoulder, and on his dad’s, trying to calm them.

“You should have left. At that point, the job had gone south, you should have.” Burt makes a noise of frustration, stalking away from his son and wife and taking off his cap.

“That wasn’t an option. You know what would have happened if we hadn’t pulled it off, you know what he would have done to us—”

Burt sends Kurt a look, one clearly telling him to stop talking immediately, so Kurt does. He glances over at Blaine.

“We can’t have a kidnapping investigation going on, kid. He has to go home.”

“Burt, he’s seen Kurt. He’s seen us.” Carole looks at him, and then turns her kind eyes on the terrified boy.

“Then we take him a few streets over and dump him somewhere, I don’t care, but we can’t have people looking for him.”

“I’m eighteen,” Blaine speaks up, his voice small. “It’s not—”

“It’s still abduction.” Burt’s voice is harsh and Blaine sinks down into the chair again. Burt mutters to himself, pacing and Kurt waits uneasily, chewing his lip.

“You put us in a hell of a position, Kurt. I hope you remember that. Come on, we have to get moving, it’s almost sun up.”

Kurt sighs, moving over towards where Blaine is.

“Well, that went better than I expected.” Kurt sinks on the bed across from the chair Blaine is in.

“ _Better?_ ” Blaine asks, incredulously. Kurt shrugs.

“They could have shot you.” Kurt watches as Blaine pales.

“Oh. Great.”

Kurt watches his family move around, sweeping the hotel room clean of their traces. He looks at Blaine again, dressed in pajamas and slippers and looking like he’s been torn out of bed to be questioned.

“If you have a phone or anything like that, we’re going to have to leave them behind.”

“No, I… Literally just my clothes, nothing else.” Blaine shrugs, as if the fact doesn’t bother him that he literally just left every single possession of him behind. “Why? Thieves don’t use cell phones?” He jokes lightly.

“Not permanent ones.” Kurt moves towards Blaine. “Also, you’re lying.”

“What are you—”

Kurt reaches into the anterior pockets of Blaine’s pajama pants and pulls out a pocketwatch, letting out a little whistle.

“Please,” Blaine says desperately. “Please, just, please don’t take that.”

“I’m an art thief, Blaine. I don’t steal family heirlooms.” Kurt pauses. “Unless they’re priceless pieces of art. But don’t lie to me. Don’t lie to any of us. We’ll know.” He tosses the clock back to Blaine, who holds it close to him. “That special to you?”

“Well, it’s all I have now. But yeah, yeah it is.” Blaine tucks it back into his pocket and Kurt clucks his tongue.

“We’re going to have to get you some new clothes on the way.”

“On the way? We’re going somewhere?”

“Oh, no, all thieves operate out of swanky hotel rooms.” Kurt rolls his eyes. “This isn’t our base of operations, and we won’t go back there until they decide you’re trustworthy enough. But I guess that’s my job.”

“Your job?”

“You’re my responsibility now. You want to be a thief? I’m going to teach you how to be a thief.”


	4. Chapter 4

“You can’t really travel in pajamas. You’re going to have to wear some of my clothes until we have the time to stop and get you something.”

Kurt pulls some things from his bag and hands them to Blaine.

“They’re… Normal.”

Kurt scoffs.

“Actually, they’re designer, thank you very much.”

“No, I meant… They’re real people clothes.”

Kurt cocks an eyebrow, his mouth set in a line.

“I hate to burst your bubble, but thieves are real people, too.” Kurt zips the bag a little violently and the noise seems to startle Blaine a bit.

“No, I know that, they’re just… Normal. I wouldn’t expect a thief to wear them.”

“Yes, because I love walking around in tight black clothing, having people asking me what I’m going to steal.” Kurt stands, tweaking Blaine on the nose.

“Hey—”

“Remember what I said about not being conspicuous? Stealing is my job, so I don’t do the work and I don’t wear the uniform when I’m not working. The best thieves are the ones you don’t expect.” Kurt glances up and down Blaine’s body, evaluating him. “Which gives you a lot of potential.”

“Um. Thanks?”

“Just. Change. You have two minutes.”

* * *

“Have you ever picked a lock?”

“Um. No.”

“Broken into a house?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Pick-pocketed someone?”

“Nope.”

“Hacked a computer?”

“Uh…”

“Decoded a password? Disabled a security camera? Cracked a safe?”

“…no.”

Kurt resists the urge to hit his head against his steering wheel, thanking everything he owns that he convinced his dad to let him and Blaine drive separately.

“I have to ask, Blaine. Why did you want to come with me? Wouldn’t it have been easier to… To join the circus or something?” His fingers flex in their hold and he throws a look at Blaine.

“Funny.” Blaine rolls his eyes and then looks out of the window. “I guess… The opportunity just came up at the right time. So I took it.”

Kurt snorts.

“The life of a wanted criminal.  _So_ glamorous.”

“It doesn’t seem to bother you that much.”

Kurt tenses, not turning to look at Blaine.

“I have my reasons,” he says in a low voice, and then reaches forward to switch on the radio. That’s enough talking.

* * *

“Climb it.”

Blaine stares at Kurt, then at the tree, and then at Kurt again.

“You can’t be serious.”

Kurt lifts his wrist to look at his watch.

“Oh my god, you’re serious.”

“And I’m timing you in five… Three… Go!”

Blaine stumbles a bit in his haste, running towards the tree and circling it a few times before he grabs for a branch.

Kurt watches, eyes jumping between Blaine’s uncertain, jerky movements and the ticking of the second hand.

“Okay?” Blaine calls.

“Now get back down.”

“You—”

“Timer’s still going!”

Blaine slips and slides and Kurt winces as his body slams ungracefully against the bark.

“Okay, don’t hurt yourself trying to be—”

There’s a crash and Kurt runs forward to where Blaine has tumbled out of the tree and is lying in the grass, groaning.

“Shit, are you okay?”

Blaine nods, rubbing at his head, and Kurt shakes his head, smiling and then laughing.

“I’m glad you find the fact that I almost  _killed_ myself amusing,” Blaine groans, and Kurt helps him sit up.

“Come on, look at me. If you end up with a concussion now, I might as well have given you one myself last night.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Kurt takes in Blaine’s disheveled appearance; the scratches on his arms, the leaves in his hair, and shakes his head.

“You’re hopeless.”

But he smiles.


	5. Chapter 5

“So where is the rest of your family?” Blaine asks uneasily as they pull into a rather quaint looking motel off the highway. At least it isn’t shady looking.

“No idea, but we’ll meet them at a rallying point tomorrow afternoon.”

“Is… That when they’ll decide whether I’m, er, worthy?” Blaine cringes at his word use as they step out of the car. Kurt snorts.

“That would be poor luck for you. Based on today alone, you’d prove more of a liability than anything else.” Kurt reaches into his jeans and produces cash. “So make yourself useful and check out a room for the night, okay? I’m just going to finish up things out here.”

Blaine has no idea what this “finishing up” entails, but he’d rather not stick around and get insulted anymore. He doesn’t see how falling out of a  _tree_ is a good judge of whether or not he’s capable of being a thief.

Because he’s  _totally_ capable.

There’s a little old lady behind the check-in desk watching reruns of I Love Lucy on a very tiny, outdated television. Blaine walks up and stands there for a few moments, but she doesn’t seem to notice him, so he rings the bell.

She starts, as if she was asleep with her eyes open, and then smiles at him in a very tired way.

“Um, a room for the night, please.” He looks down at his handful of money—all twenty dollar bills, crisp, and Blaine finds himself surprised at the fact that they’re  _paying_ for a room at all. He pays the lady, takes the key, and nearly runs into Kurt on the way out. He has the painting again, slung over his back.

“Is that necessary?” He nods toward it and Kurt rolls his eyes.

“Would you leave something worth hundreds of millions of dollars in a car overnight?”

Blaine looks at him with owlish eyes. He knows Kurt hid the painting, so wouldn’t it be safer? Kurt mutters something to himself and jerks the key from Blaine’s hand, walking off down the line of doors until he finds their room.

“Oh, how wonderfully cliché,” Kurt groans. Blaine furrows his eyebrows and when he peaks into the room—yeah, okay, one bed. That is pretty cliché. Kurt glares at him.

“She didn’t ask! She took the money, handed me a key, that’s it!” Blaine crosses his arms, sulking in the doorjamb before Kurt just sighs in frustration and moves inside. “You could do it next time.”

“No, I can’t,” Kurt says simply, and Blaine feels confused all over again.

“What? Why?”

“Because there’s a reason that we are where we are and it’s important that you’re seen by people and I’m not. We’ll just leave it at that, okay?”

Blaine hates that he’s being left out of the loop. He can understand, really he can. He’s been adopted into a family of thieves and they don’t trust him yet. Letting him in on anything is a risk, and they’ve already taken so many by giving him a chance. He isn’t about to look that in the mouth.

But at the same time, they’re treating him like a child and it’s infuriating. He asked to go with Kurt to get  _away_ from that.

“I need to treat the painting,” Kurt says, heading towards the bathroom. “Make yourself comfortable, don’t go outside.”

The door shuts and locks with finality and Blaine sighs, settling on the edge of the bed. There might only be  _one_ , but at least it’s big. But Kurt is probably going to make him sleep on the floor. It would be the  _perfect_ end to his incredibly long day.

It dawns on Blaine, then, that he hasn’t slept since he woke up last night to go to the bathroom. And met Kurt. And left his entire life behind.

Wow.

He stands up, changing back into his own pajamas and feeling so much more comfortable. He wishes he could just stay in them, but he understands the need to travel in actual clothing.

Blaine glances at the bathroom door, settling on the bed against the pillows and picking up the remote. He wonders how long “treating” a painting takes. Flipping on the TV, he finds the I Love Lucy reruns and settles into the pillows.

When Blaine wakes up, the room is dim, lit only by the lamp on the bedside table. The TV is off and somehow he’s worked his way under the comforters, but the strangest thing is that Kurt is slipping into the bed next to him.

No, no, Blaine is just tired. The light turns off and Kurt doesn’t look at him with that softness in his eyes. Kurt doesn’t smile fondly.

Blaine is just dreaming.


	6. Chapter 6

Kurt is used to sleeping alone.

The life of a thief is a dangerous and rather inconvenient life, but it’s  _his_ life and it has been for many years. It’s dangerous for all of them to stay with each other, all of the time, and his work normally consists of smaller jobs—things he does on his own and clients he seeks out himself.

This job had been different, bigger, more important, something that had required all of them and all of their skills. So, naturally, it would be the one job where something would go wrong.

Or, someone.

But that doesn’t change the fact that Kurt is used to living practically on his own. He’s used to silence and lack of companionship—he’d even go as far as saying he  _likes_ it. But he’s also used to being hunted, to having people who want to lock him up or, worse,  _hurt_ him.

He’s also used to sleeping in a bed by himself.

When he wakes up, he’s immediately apparent of the extra warmth that he’s unaccustomed to. Rather than shying away from it though, he clings closer, burying his face against soft fabric. And then he hears the low hum that is  _definitely_ not from him.

Kurt is awake in seconds, grabbing the switchblade beneath his pillow and moving until he has the stranger in a headlock, weapon pressed to their throat.

Blaine freezes in fear.

“S-sorry.” Kurt jerks away just as quickly, moving up and off the bed and running a hand through his disheveled bedhead. He looks away from Blaine, holding his elbows and staring at the wall as if it will erased what just happened.

“I.” Blaine swallows so loudly Kurt can  _hear_ it. “Did I kick you or something?”

Kurt lets out a huff of laughter in surprise, shaking his head and turning to look at Blaine, who is rubbing at his neck. It makes guilt twinge through him.

“No, I was just… Surprised.” He looks down at the blade still in his hand, flipping it open and then closed again as if the movement fascinates him.

“Um… I’m sorry?”

Blaine is trying, he’s trying  _so hard_ , and Kurt has no idea why.

“You… It was my fault. I’m just not used to sharing a bed with someone.” Kurt shrugs awkwardly. He doesn’t want to talk about this anymore.

“Huh.” Blaine sits up in the bed, rubbing at his sleep-mused hair and pulling his knees to his chest. He looks so… Young. For once, Kurt starts to feel like he’s actually abducted someone even if Blaine came of his own free will.

Then again, it was  _that_ or having his head beaten against a wall.

“Well. Thanks for not killing me, then?” Blaine offers, and Kurt smiles, shaking his head.

“Get dressed, we should get going.” Kurt turns towards the bathroom.

“Kurt?”

He pauses. Blaine said his name so softly it was hardly there at all. Kurt turns his head to the side to acknowledge he’s listening, but he doesn’t look back.

“Do… Have you had to do that before?”

Kurt presses his lips together, suddenly uncomfortable. It’s one thing for Blaine to think that the life of a thief is adventure, but it’s another one for him to understand just how  _dangerous_ it is. Kurt gives one, curt nod, turning away as if to end the discussion.

He doesn’t want to start his morning listing how many times people have tried to kill him.


	7. Chapter 7

“So, kid, what’s your assessment?”

They’re circled up at a truck stop located in the middle of a long stretch of open highway. Kurt’s Navigator blockades one side, his dad’s Dodge on the other, and Finn’s Suburban finishing out the triangle. They all drive very big cars for some reason.

“I’ve only had a day with him, so I don’t know how good his tech skills would be. But he’s small, and personable, and with the right training he could be an asset to our field team or personel.”

Blaine stares at Kurt openly. When did he—the last day hadn’t consisted of anything other than Kurt being ridiculously hard on him, long stretches of silence, and one attempt on his life. So how can Kurt make an assessment?

”You realize this is on you, right?” Burt looks very seriously at Kurt, and Kurt closes his eyes and nods. “Anything goes south and it comes back to you, buddy. Are you sure you want to risk it?”

Kurt looks at him then for one long, tense moment.

“I’m sure,” he says without looking away and Blaine swallows.

“Okay. Take him to the House. There should be enough equipment there to whip him into shape. But he can’t come Home until he’s been tested, you know the rules.”

“I do.”

Burt looks at Blaine now.

“I don’t trust you,” he says flatly, and Blaine blanches. “You want my trust, you gotta  _earn_ it. But Kurt sees something and he’s never steered us wrong before. Don’t break that record for him.”

Blaine is short, but Burt makes him feel miniscule.

“Finn?” Burt calls, and he pops up from between the cars. “We good?”

“All set.”

“Kurt, take him straight there.”

“But dad, the rotation!”

“We got it, okay? We’re making good time. Besides, you’ve got a longer trip. Remember what we talked about.”

Blaine feels so insanely out of the loop again. Burt claps Kurt on the shoulder before walking past him, stopping right by Blaine and thumping him on the back.  _Hard_. And that’s it. He gets back into the truck, where the woman—Carole—has been waiting, and Kurt moves back to the Navigator.

Blaine scrambles in after him, watching as the other two vehicles leave just as quickly.

“What were you talking about? With the rotation?”

Kurt shifts the car into drive.

“Doesn’t concern you,” he responds, flippantly, and Blaine sulks in his seat.

“And what does he want you to remember?”

“You don’t need to know.”

Blaine clenches his fist and reaches forward, punching at the dash. Out of all of the things that Blaine has done in the past 48 hours, this is what seems to unnerve Kurt the most.

“I don’t like not knowing what’s going to happen to me, Kurt.” Blaine glares at him, although it fades quickly when Kurt pulls over.

“What was that?” He asks, and Blaine stares at him in confusion.

“You don’t answer any of my questions and then you ask your own?”

Kurt sighs, rolling his eyes and muttering to himself.

“Fine, one question.”

“What is the House? It’s not like… Codename for jail, right?”

“Yes, Blaine, because as an internationally wanted thief, the first place I want to go is prison.” Kurt deadpans at him. “The House is one of our locations. We don’t really use it for much, unless there’s a job in the area, but otherwise it’s abandoned. My dad wants me to train you there.”

Blaine “ohs” silently.

“What was that aggression?” Kurt asks, looking at him intently.

“Oh, um. I took up boxing a few years ago, and so that’s generally how I channel my aggression.”

Kurt looks strangely impressed.

“What?” Blaine snaps.

“Just… You might be more useful than I thought.” He smiles at Blaine in a way he hasn’t before, then pulls back out onto the road. Blaine stares at the flat land as they pass, trying to read road signs to figure out where he is. But obscure road names don’t tell him anything.

“What did your dad mean, when he said it would all be on you?”

He flops his head back around, staring at Kurt, who continues to watch the road in silence. His mouth works to talk a few times and then closes again, and he bites his lip.

“If you betray us,” Kurt begins quietly, “if you’re the reason that something goes wrong, the blame goes to me. Because I’m the one who vouched for you.”

“What… What happens then?” Blaine asks, dread curling icy in his stomach.

“They’ll kill us,” Kurt says simply and Blaine’s mouth goes dry. He stares at Kurt in disbelief, trying to understand what he just  _heard_.

“Why,” he whispers, and Kurt casts a look in his direction.

“Because we become very dangerous liabilities,” Kurt says simply. Blaine wonders, for a moment, if Kurt has seen it happen before.

“No… Why would you vouch for me? Even if you knew it could lead to that?”

Kurt’s face turns quizzical, and when he looks at Blaine again, there’s a look of wonderment in Kurt’s eyes that makes him look startlingly young.

“…I don’t know.”


	8. Chapter 8

Blaine would really like to know what’s in the _fucking_ bag.

It’s a nondescript, black, travel duffle that Kurt had plopped into his lap at their first stop after they left the rallying point.

“Don’t open it,” he’d said, and then he pushed a wad of cash into Blaine’s hand and told him to go and buy a bottle of water from a 7-11 around the corner. And to bring the bag. Blaine had started to question him, of course, but Kurt had been very adamant and a little scary (if Blaine’s being honest with himself).

They spend two days driving.

They stop frequently and, whenever they do, Kurt always makes Blaine get out with the bag and go to some place a block down the street, or around a corner, buying pointless things (like a pack of gum) to food (only ever enough for one person). Blaine is also in charge of checking them into the one motel they stay at—not very nice and very, very cheap—and, despite the events of that first night, Kurt insists that Blaine asks for a single bed.

Surprisingly enough, Kurt relents it to him and instead sleeps in the chair; Blaine wakes up to see Kurt rubbing at his neck and shoulders and his lips set in a grim line.

_He won’t complain_ .

Blaine has no idea where they’re going, either; the towns they stop in are obscure and he doesn’t dare ask any of the employees he encounters. If Kurt isn’t telling Blaine, as infuriating as that fact is, he knows it’s for a reason.

But he put his life into Kurt’s hand that very first hour and now he just has to trust him with it.

It’s terrifying.

However, just because Kurt isn’t _telling_ him things doesn’t mean it’s silent. Kurt asks a lot of questions; he might not be providing answers, but he’s expecting them from Blaine.

It’s not a conventional way of getting to know each other; Kurt doesn’t ask him his favorite color, or movie, or when his birthday is. Kurt asks about his schooling, all the way back to preschool, covering every subject he’d ever learned. They talk about every club he’s been in, all of his extracurriculars, and the one job Blaine had as a library assistant in high school.

Blaine’s not quite sure what Kurt is doing, but he can practically see the mental list that Kurt is crossing off.

They don’t stop at a motel the second night. One minute Blaine is asleep in the passenger seat and the next Kurt is waking him up with a shake to the shoulder.

“Huh?”

“Get up.”

Blaine sits up, disoriented, and notices that it’s just after five in the morning.

“Where are we?”

Blaine snaps awake as the duffle lands in his lap, blinking against his exhaustion. He notices that Kurt is wearing gloves, but doesn’t say anything.

“What are we doing?”

“Open the bag.”

Blaine blinks in surprise, staring down at the mysterious black bag that’s been taunting him for the last forty-eight hours. He grabs the zipper, slides it open, and… Wait, what?

He picks up his own wallet and passport, staring at them in confusion and then looking at Kurt.

“What… How did you get these?”

“Not important.”

“Where are we?”

“Bangor International Airport.”

Blaine has absolutely no idea where that is.

“Wait, are you… Are you shipping me off somewhere?”

Is that all this has been? It was never about joining Kurt, just about taking Blaine far from home and then… Then shipping him to Brazil or something.

Kurt gives him a look.

“No. But you are going to take your passport and your wallet inside. You are going to use your credit card to buy a one-way ticket on the next flight to Montreal.”

“But this is my parent’s—”

“Blaine.”

He quiets at Kurt’s harsh tone, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I will explain everything when you come back, but you need to go and do this now, do you understand?”

Blaine stays quiet, fidgets in his seat for a few moments, before nodding. He opens the car door and notices that he’s right by the terminal. He stares back at Kurt and at the car, suddenly feeling very nervous.

“Hurry back,” Kurt says softly and, for once, he smiles at Blaine and nods.

Blaine trusts Kurt Hummel with his life.

And it’s absolutely terrifying.


	9. Chapter 9

When Blaine climbs back into the car, Kurt pulls away from the curb and sets them back on course.

“Maine,” Blaine says suddenly, his voice full of surprise, but he doesn’t say anything else. He has his wallet, passport, and a boarding pass clutched tightly in his hand and Kurt is surprised he hasn’t started asking questions yet.

They’re silent as Kurt drives, the sun to their backs. They have a long way ahead of them and Kurt is exhausted from driving through the night. But stopping now is even riskier than it was before.

“…how did you get all of this?”

_Ah, there are the questions_ .

Blaine’s voice is meek and timid and Kurt can understand why. The way Blaine had looked at him as he got out of the car had spoken volumes—he honestly thought that Kurt was going to leave him there.

_I went through too much trouble to leave you at an airport in Maine._

“Finn. He went back to your house the morning after the job. Ransacked your room a little bit, just to make it look like someone was trying to leave in a hurry. Grabbed important things—passport, wallet, your phone. Don’t even _think_ about turning it on.” Kurt shoots him a look but Blaine is just staring at him with his face twisted in confusion.

Kurt sighs.

“We can’t have a missing person’s report following us. Sooner or later, someone would recognize you, and the last thing we need is cops tailing us across the country. So we had to give your family and the police another reason.”

Blaine’s eyes widen in understanding.

“You made me run away.”

Kurt’s lips quirk in a grin.

“If your parents are looking for you, chances are they’ll track your cell phone and your credit cards. But you’re over 18; if it looks like you ran away to Canada, there isn’t much the police can do.”

Blaine is quiet again, contemplative, and the silence begins to push on how tired Kurt is.

“So… All those pointless stops? If you wanted my parents to track me, why not have me use my card those times, too?”

“Too risky. But that was your own money. Well, your parents money.” Kurt looks over at him with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Let’s just say you made a rather large withdraw a few nights ago.”

Blaine lets out a small, incredulous laugh, head thunking back against the seat.

“So the last two days…?”

“Erasing your trail. We’ll destroy all of those things, too. But we’ll burn them when we get to the House.” Kurt glances at him. “You’ll disappear.”

He can’t watch that fact register on Blaine’s face. He can’t even imagine what it would feel like. This has always been Kurt’s life; he’s never had to give up one before.

“Did you drive all through the night?” Blaine asks quietly, and Kurt blinks in surprise at the road ahead of them.

“Yes.”

“You must be exhausted.”

Kurt just shrugs. He is, but that doesn’t matter.

“We should stop.”

“No.” Kurt’s tone is clipped. “It’s too risky.”

“We can just do what we did the last two times. I can—”

“ _No_.” Kurt’s hands grip tightly on the steering wheel. “We didn’t erase your trail just to make it again. What about the word _disappear_ do you not understand?”

“So you’re just going to drive for however long it takes to get to the House?”

“No. We’ll stop, eventually, but not until we’re a safe distance away.”

It’s quiet and Kurt wishes he had the luxury to close his eyes, gather his patience.

“How long will it take us to reach the House?”

“About five days.”

It’s a long drive. Even if they had gone immediately, it would have been long.

“Keeping in mind we stop every night and drive between ten and twelve hours a day.”

“Ten and twelve _hours?_ Where are we _going?_ ”

“You don’t need to know.”

Blaine makes a noise of frustration. It’s not as if Kurt is keeping things from him because it’s fun (well, it’s _a little_ fun). If Blaine has a problem with being in the dark, he’s going to have a hard time adjusting to this life.

“You should let me drive.”

Kurt nearly slams on the breaks in surprise, his body jerking backwards as he flashes Blaine an incredulous look.

“I should _what?_ ”

“Let me drive. You’ve been driving for a long time, and I don’t really feel safe in a big metal death trap that’s being controlled by someone who might nod off.”

“I won’t nod off.”

“Why are you being so difficult?”

He doesn’t answer. Lifts his chin and stays silent.

“What do you think I’ll do? Where do you think I’ll go? You said it to yourself. I’m gone. I’m in Canada. I’ve disappeared. Where could I possibly go?”

It’s rational. Kurt doesn’t focus on that. He focuses on Blaine’s passion, charisma, and abilities of persuasion. He had mentioned something about being on a debate team.

“You really have a hard time trusting people, don’t you?”

Blaine’s voice is soft and Kurt suddenly imagines someone approaching a frightened animal. _Oh god_ , _he’s_ the frightened animal.

“I’m a thief. I don’t trust anyone.”

“Liar. You trust your dad, and your family.”

“And they’ve earned it, I have _no_ reason to trust you.”

There’s more venom in his voice than he intends. He doesn’t really enjoy having this conversation in a car, when he can hardly pay attention to Blaine and the road at the same time. He can’t see Blaine, can’t read him or his reactions or anything. Kurt feels blind.

“…I trust you.”

Blaine’s looking at him. Kurt can’t look back, wouldn’t look back even if he could.

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

_I wish you could, but no one should trust me. It’s too dangerous_ .

“Doesn’t mean that I don’t.”

Kurt chances a glance and Blaine is still staring at him, steadily. His look is earnest and determined and Kurt can’t understand why.

_He has to trust me. From the moment he met me, he put his entire life in my hands. It’s mine now, even if I don’t want it. Even if I’m afraid to ruin it_ .

He makes the decision rashly (and Kurt does not generally make rash decisions, _ever_ ), he pulls over. They’re in the middle of the highway but there are hardly any other cars on the road.

“You’re going to stay on the 95 going west. Don’t make any stops until we need gas; we should be good for another six hours. If anything happens, wake me up. If you feel confused or lost or nervous, _anything_ , wake me up.”

Kurt turns to look at Blaine who is regarding him softly.

“What?” He snaps. Blaine just smiles a bit more and shakes his head.

“Nothing.”


	10. Chapter 10

Kurt feels like he hasn’t slept at all by the time Blaine is shaking him awake. He squints his eyes at Blaine, confused, and then groans.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Blaine whispers. “But we’re almost out of gas and you told me to wake you up.”

Kurt _really_ doesn’t fucking care, but he doesn’t say anything to Blaine. After all, those were his instructions.

“If you want, I can just—”

“No,” Kurt grunts, sitting up. He looks down at the jacket draped over him curiously, but doesn’t mention it. “But…” Kurt sits up, rubbing at his eyes, and then glancing warily at Blaine. “You can keep driving.”

God, it’s like Kurt just told him he bought Blaine a puppy or something.

It isn’t long before the tank is full of gas and Kurt is slumping back into his seat, murmuring further directions to Blaine and where to stop next (a little motel about four hours down the highway). And then he falls asleep, slightly aware of the faint humming in the background.

He wakes up before they stop again, eyes bleary against the light from the mid-morning sun. It’s at their backs, where it should be, but it’s still too much. It takes Kurt a moment to remember where he is and who he’s with, the tension spring loaded along his spine until the facts settle. He isn’t being driven towards his death and, as far as Kurt is aware, Blaine has been following his directions to a t.

“You’re awake,” Blaine says quietly, and Kurt peers over his shoulder at him. He’s curled against the door, body tucked into him like a child, and it’s a little embarrassing.

Kurt’s still exhausted but his back is screaming at him but sleeping in a car. He doesn’t bother responding to Blaine ( _yes, I’m awake, do you want a gold star, Captain Obvious?_ ) and instead focuses on their surroundings. They’ll be there soon, probably.

“So…”

Kurt glances over at Blaine sharply and unamused.

“What?” He snaps, turning his eyes to stare resolutely out the window.

“Someone’s grumpy,” Blaine murmurs and, if it was possible, Kurt would probably kick Blaine in the shin. Never mind that it would be a horrible thing to do while he’s driving.

“Please stop trying to make small talk with me.”

“So we’re just not going to talk? For five days?” Blaine deadpans, shooting a glance in Kurt’s direction that he can’t _see_ but it’s deliberate enough that he can feel it. Kurt shrugs. “That won’t drive you insane?”

Kurt can tell by the slight hysterical quality to Blaine’s tone that it’s already driving Blaine insane.

“I’m used to being alone,” he dismisses.

“Well, you better get unused to it.”

Kurt snaps his attention to Blaine.

“Look,” Blaine begins with a sigh, glancing over briefly to catch Kurt’s eyes, “from how you made it sound, it seems like we’re stuck together for awhile. I mean, we’re partners, right?”

“Partners?” Kurt snorts. “I’m more like your babysitter.”

“A babysitter who is going to teach me how to become a thief. What would my parents think?” Blaine muses, his voice light and teasing

“Oh, they’ll never be the wiser, sweetheart,” Kurt chirps, playing along. He stretches out as much as he can before propping his feet against the dashboard. “I come with wonderful character references.”

Blaine chuckles and Kurt can’t help but smile a little bit. It’s… Different, if nothing else. Sure, he has his family, but he doesn’t really have friends. Their whole main operation is full of the best of the best but Kurt doesn’t particularly like many of them, or trust them. They’re all thieves, born and bred, just like he is.

But Blaine is… He’s _just_ Blaine. Maybe a few days ago he wanted to do something extraordinary, like become an astronaut, and now he’s a thief’s apprentice (is that what they would call it? Kurt likes the idea of having something as fancy as an apprentice). He wasn’t raised knowing that this is what would happen to him. He might be soft because of it, but he’s also different.

“What?” Blaine asks, and Kurt nearly blushes when he realizes he’s been staring.

“What did you want to be?” Kurt asks without thinking and Blaine’s head turns towards him for the briefest of moments before he looks back at the road.

“What do you mean?” Blaine’s voice is full of hesitancy and Kurt can’t blame him. The questions have never really been about Blaine as a person. They’ve been about Blaine as a commodity; what can he do? what can he provide? how much worth does he have?

“Before you decided that you really just want to steal things for the rest of your life,” Kurt deadpans, but then his expression softens. “What did you want to be?”

Blaine shifts in the driver’s seat and runs a hand through his hair, as if buying time.

“I… Don’t know. I’m only just out of high school and my parents are probably happy I at least had the decency to run away before they had to pay my first year’s tuition.” He laughs, but it’s humorless. “I was going in undecided, much to my father’s chagrin—”

Kurt laughs and Blaine frowns.

“What?”

“Did you seriously just use the word chagrin? Do people actually _say_ that word? I thought Stephenie Meyer made it up.” Kurt claps a hand over his mouth as soon as he’s said it.

“Oh my god.” Blaine’s starting to smile.

“I didn’t—”

“I know your dirty, dirty secret, Mr. Super Awesome Thief.”

_Super Awesome Thief, is Blaine even a real_ **_person?_ **

“You’re a closet _Twilight_ fan!”

“I am _not!_ ” Kurt snaps back, but he’s blushing because _dammit_.

“Oh, Kurt,” Blaine imitates in a high, girly voice. “I’m _irrevocably_ in love with you.”

Kurt can’t help it; he laughs, swatting at Blaine’s arm.

“It’s oh so sexy when you read my mind, mmmm, such a turn on.”

“Blaine!” Kurt gasps, buckling forward from laughing so hard. But Blaine is laughing too and Kurt is kind of surprised they haven’t swerved off the road.

“He _can’t_ read her mind,” Kurt says without thinking and Blaine just levels him with a look. “Shut up! You used to play polo!”

“You’re just jealous,” Blaine responds in a sing-song and Kurt flops back against the seat, rolling his eyes. It’s silent again and then Kurt is looking over at Blaine again.

“So why was your dad _chagrined_ about you being undecided?” Kurt prompts and he can see Blaine’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“He, um, had certain plans for my future,” Blaine answers, his eyes flitting around and scanning the road in front of them. “We didn’t exactly see eye to eye on them.” He glances over at Kurt. “He wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer or an accountant. Something sensible, I suppose. I’m not saying I wouldn’t _want_ to be those things, but… I’m young. I have dreams, I guess… Options. I want to explore them.”

They’re quiet and Kurt just looks at Blaine. Whatever future was awaiting him at college, it’s gone now. Even if he suddenly changed his mind, there isn’t a lot they could do at this point. He knows too much and there’s only one way to guarantee someone’s silence.

Kurt remembers the dreams he had, that he still has, that he’ll never be able to reach. Sometimes he imagines a world where those dreams are possible, where being apart of a syndicate isn’t his entire life. A world where he could sing, or act, or design. A world where he had the freedom.

He took Blaine’s freedom away.

He almost apologizes, but he stops himself. What would he say? _I’m sorry for destroying your entire future_. He’d given Blaine the choice. But maybe he shouldn’t have.


	11. Chapter 11

Things are different now.

Now, Blaine isn’t unknowingly leaving a trail for police or private investigators or _whatever_  to follow. Sometimes Blaine thinks about fake-Blaine, the one who disappeared to Canada without rhyme or reason.  _I went there to get married_ , he mentally tells his parents. That’s what he would say to them if he was in Canada or if there was any chance of him speaking to them again.

It isn’t long before Kurt is directing Blaine off the freeway and to a small inn—it has to be called an inn because it isn’t shady the way the motels have been. This time, however, Kurt tells Blaine to wait in the car before he disappears inside.

_If we were really thorough, wouldn’t we switch cars, too?_

Blaine feels a little smug for noticing and thinks about mentioning it to Kurt later.

They’re settling into the hotel room and Blaine is suddenly so grateful to have new clothes that are  _his_  and he realizes that he can  _shower_  and then he realizes that it’s been two or three days since he has (how long has it been now? He can’t even remember).

"You can have the bathroom first," Kurt says once the door is locked, almost as if he was reading Blaine’s mind. Blaine just grins at him, slinging the duffle over his shoulder and then hurrying into the bathroom. It’s not exactly a five-star hotel so the bathroom isn’t impressive and the water pressure is  _awful_ , but it’s hot water and that’s enough.

Life feels unusually normal within the tiled walls of the shower, especially after the last few days. Before happening upon a thief in his hallway, his life had been rather average. He went to school, sang in his glee club, and did a lot of homework. He had other extracurriculars, but they didn’t really make his life interesting—they were fun and they looked good on college applications, although it all seems to have been moot in the end.

He’d had a lot of friends, to the point where he could even be considered popular, but he had never been incredibly close with any of them. He’d never had a boyfriend—not for lack of wanting one, but for the fact that, even if a safe haven like Dalton, out-and-proud gay boys were few and far between.

Maybe it should feel like Blaine’s left more behind, but it doesn’t. The things that are supposedly irreplaceable aren’t sitting at the forefront of his mind like a beacon calling him home or anything. Those things are gone, forever, and Blaine doesn’t feel any sort of pull towards them now. When he thinks about what his life  _is_ , what his life is about to become, he feels the sort of anxious-excited that had been lacking before.

Blaine knows things could end very badly. He knows that every second longer is closer to vowing his life to something he doesn’t necessarily believe in, something that could get him killed. Blaine grew up under the moral that stealing is wrong, and yet, here he is.

 _They’ll expect me to steal, and if not that, I’ll be an accessory_. Blaine will be a criminal, and he knows that’s where all of his fear is coming from.

 _The shower can’t protect me, just like blankets and car rides and trying to act like everything is normal won’t protect me. This is my life now_.

He shuts off the water, standing for a moment in the sticky, humid air of the bathroom before he towels off and gets dressed.

He’s so used to seeing Kurt hovering around, being suspicious and secretive, that it’s strange to walk back into the room and to see him sitting on one of the beds, watching the news. Blaine wonders if Kurt is looking for something—a story on the robbery? On Blaine’s disappearance? They aren’t in Ohio, so Blaine thinks that chances of seeing anything about Blaine Anderson or a priceless painting is unlikely.

"Bathroom’s free," he says, even though it’s unneeded, and Kurt nods in acknowledgement but doesn’t say anything. Blaine squirms slightly, uncomfortable, before settling on what will be his bed for the night and trying to look interested in a story about peanut contamination. Blaine misses his material things, even if it is shallow—he misses his laptop, and his books, and his  _phone_. He doesn’t have anything to entertain himself with, and even conversation with Kurt proves difficult after a little while. Just when Blaine thinks it’s getting better, Kurt seems to pull back in on himself and shuts down whatever strides Blaine tries to make in their… Relationship, whatever relationship it happens to be.

"Here," Kurt says suddenly, dropping a room service menu on Blaine’s stomach. “We’ll order when I get out." Which means that Kurt will order, because Blaine is a missing person and they have to be careful.

When the door of the bathroom clicks shut, Blaine moves to grab the TV remote and then flops on his stomach, menu open in front of him on the bed while he tries to find something worth watching. He settles on  _I Love Lucy_ , smiling to himself as he begins flipping through the menu.

It’s when he’s debating the merits of a salad and a sandwich that Blaine hears it—soft at first, and distorted by the sound of running water, echoing off of tile as it grows louder. It’s a voice, sharp and clear and beautiful.

"… _Leave all this to yesterday. What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me?_ ”

It takes Blaine a few moments to place the song, and then a few moments more to place the voice. Because it’s not someone next door, or downstairs, or anywhere else. That voice is  _Kurt’s_ , and it makes Blaine’s breath catch in his throat at how emotive it is when the person it’s coming from is hidden behind so many walls.

“ _Why live life from dream to dream? And dread the day when dreaming ends?_ ”

Blaine’s throat feels thick, suddenly, and he swallows, staring down at the menu but not reading it in the slightest. Blaine knows how to sing with his whole heart, and he also knows when other people are doing it. Kurt’s song is raw with emotion, with yearning, with regret, with  _pain_ , and Blaine can’t stop wondering.

_What dream did you lose?_


End file.
